


Soft As Ocean Spray

by nazgularepeopletoo



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Colonel Winnant Needs To Chill, Cuddling, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Let the boys rest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgularepeopletoo/pseuds/nazgularepeopletoo
Summary: War is war, and hell is hell, but neither are good for ones stress levels.





	Soft As Ocean Spray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panpride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpride/gifts).



                The gunfire in the distance became a backdrop; almost a soothing noise that let the men stuck on the beach know that they weren’t alone, that they weren’t isolated and forgotten. Everyone was restless, dirty, and exhausted, but adrenaline and paranoia kept most of the soldiers awake. It had been days since they had heard from anyone higher than Colonel, and evacuation was slow going.

                Colonel Winnant had been stalking up and down the mole, anxious and feeling helpless. He felt responsible in some way for them being stuck there, though he hadn’t given the orders that had led the men there. He managed to avoid any interaction until he made his way back up the mole, probably due to his expression and quick pace. He wasn’t a very approachable person in the first place, being a superior officer and all.

                When he got to the top of the mole, however, he felt a gentle hand on the crook of his elbow, stopping him short in his tracks. He looked up, a quick chastisement on his tongue, but it disappeared when he saw who had called his attention. It was Commander Bolton, giving him a half amused look.

                “You’re making them more nervous with your pacing, Colonel.” Bolton nodded behind Winnant with that. Winnant followed his gaze, nearly catching the eye of a Private who glanced away just in time. Quite a few soldiers were staring up towards the two officers, and it was then that Winnant felt the growing unease in the air.

                “Oh, I hadn’t even…” He sighed, falling silent. The grip on his arm became firmer, and Bolton gently steered Winnant a bit further up the mole, further away from the soldiers and any prying eyes.

                “When is the last time you slept, Reginald?” Winnant jerked slightly at the use of his Christian name, forgetting for a moment that anyone there even knew it. He sighed again, leaning towards Bolton but avoiding the eye contact that he could feel Bolton trying to make.

                “I don’t know. I’ve been… preoccupied.” That was an understatement, and they both knew it. Bolton nodded in understanding, then stopped walking. It was quieter out on the water. They had a few hours before the next boat came, so there wasn’t anyone out that far but them and a few other naval officers.

                “Come on, sit down with me.” Winnant blinked at Bolton in confusion, understanding but not comprehending the words he had just heard. “You need to at least rest, Reginald. So sit with me. My feet hurt and I’m sure yours do too, what with all that damned pacing you do. No one will begrudge us this, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The Commander dropped his hand from Winnant’s arm, sitting on the damp planks with a soft groan. Winnant felt too light at the loss of contact, his arm twitching towards the now seated man. He glanced behind him at the soldiers waiting listlessly, but finally sat next to Bolton.

                The two sat there quietly for a while, leaning against the wooden beam and feeling the cool ocean spray on their backs. After a moment, Winnant shivered, tugging at his jacket as if to try and pull it tighter. Bolton glanced over and smiled softly, reaching an arm around the taller man and pulling him closer to share body heat. Winnant froze, glancing down at the Commander. Bolton only smiled up at him, trying to calm him down a little. He could tell the Colonel was still tense and over thinking things, and he hoped that physical contact would help at least a little.

                It did. It took a little more convincing, taking his hand and rubbing circles on it with his thumb, pulling off his hat and running short fingers through his hair, but after about an hour the Colonel was dozing off, slumped on Bolton’s shoulder. Bolton smiled again, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. They were going to be okay. He could just feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my girlfriend, AllyHope13, whom I love very much and is willing to talk to me about Dunkirk as much as my little gay heart will allow ;v;
> 
> Also, this is my 50th fic on here!! If anyone has any requests, feel free to comment or message!


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